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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29530212">Pass the Heartless Day</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boymayor/pseuds/Boymayor'>Boymayor</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Warhammer Fantasy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Banter, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, One-Shots, Warhammer: The End Times - Vermintide, it's about the yearning, when you're in love but you're also both stupid as hell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:42:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,959</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29530212</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boymayor/pseuds/Boymayor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A place to dump my self-indulgent Vermintide drabbles and tidbits.</p><p>This was posted a while ago with one entry, then I took it down, and now I guess I'm putting it back? Also, have some new stuff while I'm at it.<br/>There's no particular order to these.</p><p>[Now with art :^D ♡]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kerillian (WHF)/Markus Kruber</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Sweets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, I mentioned I wrote Vermintide fanfic in one of my cosplay youtube videos as a joke, but then it got a non-trivial amount of views... at which point i freaked out and worried everyone was gonna find it (since there are only a handful of fics in this tag), got self-conscious, and took it down. But enough time has passed that it's proooobably fine? Or maybe the madness of prolonged pandemic isolation has finally eroded my sense of shame enough to just not give a shit. Anyway, artemisia_vulgaris reminded me I had some things in the drafts I've never typed up or posted, so here we are.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     High as they were, cradled in the peaks of the Grey Mountains, warm days were few and far between. And for the Champions of Ubersreik, lulls were just as rare. It was no surprise to Kruber that he found Kerillian in the courtyard, stretched lazily across a bench-- not unlike a barn cat neglecting its mousing responsibilities.</p><p>     Kruber was meant to be chopping firewood, but he couldn't resist needling her, just a little.<em> Like </em><em>dangling feathers on a string...</em></p><p>     He was sure it was the amusement of getting her riled that drew him in, not the lithe line of her body in the sun... or the rare, unguarded half-smile when she noticed him in the doorway. She was awfully pretty like this, in a sleeveless doublet and bathed in warmth. <em>Well, she was always </em><em>pretty,</em> <em>he thought.</em> <em>But now she seemed... soft, untroubled. Sweet looked good on her, Taal </em><em>preserve him.</em></p><p>     "Busy pulling your weight, I see." Kruber prodded, nodding at the book in her hands.</p><p>     Kerillian marked her place with a ribbon before setting it aside. "I’ve already fed the ravens, and packed the medical kits, so don’t start with me, Sergeant.” She rose to her feet, squinting at him<br/>
in appraisal, “Not all of us are afflicted with the tendency to sleep until midday.”</p><p>     Kruber opened his mouth to defend himself, but was distracted by the object she had been rolling nimbly across her knuckles in his peripheral vision. "What have you got there?"</p><p>    “This?” She held it up between them. "An Asrai scrying stone," she explained, dropping the gem into his hand. "We use it for divination. If you concentrate, it can show you visions of the future."</p><p>     Kruber turned it over in his palm. It was translucent, and oddly tacky to the touch. The stone's cloudy white facets glimmered faintly in the sunlight, but betrayed nothing as he stared into it with intent. When he looked up to say as much, he found Kerillian biting her lip, quite obviously trying to contain her amusement.</p><p>     Kruber scowled.</p><p>     "Tricked you, Mayfly," she snickered, plucking the stone out of his hand and tossing it into her mouth. "It'th rock candy." From her pocket she produced a small paper bag that rattled when she dangled it in front of him.</p><p>     "Ugh! Rotten woman, give us one of those--" He lunged for the bag, but in a blur he found himself pinned face first against the wall, held still by his arm twisted uncomfortably behind him.</p><p>     "My my, where did you learn your manners? From those Talabec cows?" Kerillian admonished.</p><p>     Her grip on his wrist was just short of bruising, but the pain was overshadowed by the warm weight of her at his back. Kruber wanted to say something clever, to return her mockery, but something about the soft sweep of her hair against his arm made his mouth dry.</p><p>     "'M getting too old for your nonsense," was the most he could manage.</p><p>     The candy clacked against her teeth. "I'm ten timeth your age."</p><p>     "Putting up with you day in and day out has aged me a thousand years," he lamented.</p><p>     "As I recall, it has also prolonged your lifespan, on more than one occasion."</p><p>     The hand pressed between his shoulder blades lifted, replaced by more of her body weight to hold him in place while she dug around in the paper bag.</p><p>     (He could easily have freed himself by now, but there was no harm in playing along, was there?)</p><p>     She pressed a piece of crystallized sugar into his palm before she stepped away.</p><p>     "As <em>I</em> recall," Kruber grumbled, "it was <em>me</em> keeping <em>you</em> from becoming Spawn food just last week."</p><p>     "Hmph. I had it under control." She groused, examining her nails.</p><p>     “Uh huh. Tell me, how does one <em>control</em> a sword when it's lying in the mud twenty feet away?” It hadn't looked like she'd had control over much of anything. Kruber remembered it clearly, because it had been <em>terrifying</em>, but he wasn't about to admit as much.</p><p>     “You just... <em>happened</em> to get it before I did, that time.” Kerillian collected her book and started off in the direction of her lean-to.</p><p>     "Right, next time I suppose I'll leave you to it then!" he called after her. This would never happen, and he knew it.</p><p>     "Fine! Best not get in the way!"</p><p>     Kruber suspected she knew it too.</p><p>     Her dismissal might have stung more, were it not so obvious that her abrasiveness toward the lot of them was nothing more than habit at this point. Further still, something about the way she picked on him was... different.</p><p>     Affectionate, in a way that he could no longer write off as his imagination.</p><p>     He watched her walk away, distracted momentarily by the freckles on her shoulders in the late afternoon sun. The candy had already gone sticky in his hand. When had his palms become so sweaty?</p><p>     When he tasted it, the sharp edges felt harsh against his tongue, but the flavor was sweet and mild. And the most frustrating thing was... he couldn't help but wonder how sweet it might be, if he tasted it on her lips instead.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Quiet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Based on that one dialogue exchange you can get on Blightreaper(?) where Kerillian complains about getting sent to the sewers and Kruber makes fun of her for it. I wrote this before A Quiet Drink came out, but now that that exists this could also be in reference to Kerillian's intoxicated griping about being tired ("Won't somebody carry me?"), LOL.</p><p><a href="https://artemisiavulgaris1114.tumblr.com/post/643849608641085440/i-downloaded-a-new-procreate-brushset-by-stephanie">This chapter now has art</a> by the lovely <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemisia_vulgaris/pseuds/artemisia_vulgaris">artemesia_vulgaris </a>♡</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     “Ugh, next time Lohner wants to send us to a sewer, I've a mind to refuse,” Kerillian grumbled, picking her way through the heaps of viscera strewn about the cobblestones.</p><p>     “Aw, can't have your dainty elf feet getting wet, can we?” While she danced around the mess on the balls of her feet, Kruber simply trudged forward, paying little mind to the unidentifiable organic matter sullying his boots. </p><p>     “It's not the <em> water </em>that's the problem, Kruber, it's the shit and entrails therein. Or hadn't you noticed the smell?” </p><p>     He stroked his chin in mock contemplation. “Hm, now that you mention it, I suppose it is a bit ripe down here, eh?” As if to punctuate his point, he hacked open a web of flesh and sinew obstructing their path with an ugly <em> squelch </em>. “Ladies fir-” </p><p>     He had meant to usher her through the cleared doorway, but he was silenced by Kerillian's hand over his mouth. </p><p>     Kruber stopped, heart racing, and watched her for any sign of alarm as she tilted her head in concentration. Nearly a minute had passed in (apparent) silence before he heard it – a harsh, chittering whisper echoing in the darkness. The sound of the sneak-rat was faint, but unmistakable. He pantomimed a stabbing motion to show her that he understood. </p><p>     Giving a single nod in confirmation, she pointed to herself, and tapped Kruber delicately on the shoulder. Fine by him. If there was an assassin stalking them, having Kerillian in his blind spot was his best shot at keeping his innards right where they belonged, thank you. </p><p>     She drew her sword and assumed her position at his back, and together, they stepped out of the stone corridor and into a dark chamber. Kruber did his best to tread quietly, but it was impossible in full armor. Kerillian, on the other hand, may as well have been a ghost. Despite knowing she was there, he felt a familiar panic winding up his spine-- the recurring fear of losing comrades.</p><p>     Of being left alone. </p><p>     He'd gone over this in his mind time and time again. Knowing he couldn't afford to let old wounds interfere with the task at hand, however, didn’t stop the sick swell of dread churning in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't stop himself from casting glances over his shoulder, just to be <em> sure. </em> </p><p>     Kerillian must have noticed-- in a display of the tacit understanding she'd been showing him with increasing frequency, she laid her free hand on his shoulder, and held it there. Reassured, Kruber resumed his pace, and they moved together in formation through the dark expanse. Only a few dim braziers illuminated fragments of the room around them, and he searched each flickering shadow for a trace of telltale green warp-glow. The sinister whispering drew closer, but was impossible to pin down as it reverberated against every wet stone surface. </p><p>     Suddenly, it stopped. </p><p>     They froze in unison. </p><p>     “HERE!” Kerillian shouted. Then came a blur of motion, and the sound of steel rending flesh neatly apart. </p><p>     No sooner than Kruber could spin around to face it, the Eshin assassin lay twitching at their feet. While he exhaled and allowed himself a moment for the adrenaline to dissipate, Kerillian only looked mildly perturbed. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, and pulled a sour face when it came away smeared with Skaven blood.  </p><p>     “Hate these bastards. You alright? Didn't get you, did he?” he asked, giving her a once over. </p><p>     “Of course not,” she scoffed. </p><p>     Kruber let out a low whistle. “Think you killed him before you even touched him with your sword. Took one look at that scowl on your face and dropped dead mid-air. Yep, that one there.” He tapped her on the forehead, right on the exasperated crease between her eyebrows. </p><p>     Said scowl intensified as she batted his hand away. “You're unbearable.” </p><p>     “See, this is why Sienna calls us 'Miss Pot' and 'Mister Kettle',” Kruber chided. He prodded at the gutter runner's corpse with the end of his halberd, checking for any remaining signs of life. Kerillian grumbled something under her breath and sheathed her sword. “What was that, <em> Miss Pot? </em>” </p><p>     “I <em> said, </em>keep talking and see if I don't let the next one dig your lungs out of your ribcage.” </p><p>     “I'm only teasing, no need to....<em> stew </em>over it,” he quipped, with a barely contained snort.</p><p>     “Kruber, I swear to my gods <em> and </em>yours I will skin you with your own--” </p><p>     “Right, sorry, I suppose I shouldn’t… stir the p-" </p><p>     “Ugh!” </p><p>     She gave him a shove, but there was no real force behind it. Over the protest and the face mask, he could still see the crinkle in the corners of her eyes, which she'd been getting worse at hiding. </p><p>     Or, as part of him hoped, perhaps she wasn't trying to hide them from him anymore.</p><p>     They still had a ways to go before it was safe to move above ground and head toward Sienna and Bardin, so they pressed further into the labyrinthine network of sewer tunnels. They stopped in doorways and around corners to look and listen for signs of danger-- mostly, he looked at her, because if something <em> was </em>lurking in the shadows, there was no chance he'd hear it before she did. </p><p>     At least that's how Kruber justified it to himself. He was hesitant to acknowledge the part of himself that was charmed by the way she tilted her head from side to side like a curious bird. </p><p>     While the air had already been thick with the stench of decay, it became particularly foul as the two neared the end of a long corridor. In line with their usual luck, the tunnel's egress had led them to a wide canal. The water (or what, by a generous stretch of the imagination, may once have been water) was an opaque, stagnant expanse of putrid sludge, littered with barely discernible bones and body parts. The channel stretched on in both directions, disappearing into the darkness with no crossing in sight. </p><p>     “The Gods are laughing at me,” Kerillian stated vacantly, “I'm being punished.” </p><p>     “If you're being punished, doesn't seem fair to have me dragged into it.” Kruber dipped the end of his polearm into the murky liquid and felt for the bottom. “Great news,” he grumbled,  “it's only about knee-deep.” </p><p>     When he turned back to Kerillian, the look on her face could only be described as quiet, existential despair. Try as he might to suppress the urge, there were times it was hard to resist testing the unknown depths of her patience for him. He may have been endlessly amused by how fussy she could be about cleanliness, but he still took pity on her. It was a risk, but the reassuring hand on his shoulder was still fresh in his mind. </p><p>     He hoped, for his sake and hers, he wasn’t reading this wrong. </p><p>     “Right, best not tarry,” he said, kneeling in front of her. “Come on then.” </p><p>     Unsurprisingly, there was a beat of silence while she tried to process what was happening. “What.., are you doing?” </p><p>     “<em>You </em> a favor, my lady, what's it look like?” he answered. “You can't be that hard to carry, let's go.” He inclined his head toward the stream of filth stretched out before them. </p><p>     “You... You're joking,” she objected, incredulous. </p><p>     “You're welcome to slog through the rot river yourself, if that's your preference.” Another moment of silence passed, giving Kruber the rare satisfaction of rendering her speechless, until there came a huff that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. A moment later, Kerillian’s hands were on his shoulders, and she began gingerly arranging herself on his back. He looped one arm under her leg and found his balance to stand, relieved.  </p><p>     “Right, you'll need to hold my halberd, across my chest so it stays out of the way.” He let her get a grip on it before moving his now free arm to support her other leg. “Steady?” </p><p>     “Aye, you?” </p><p>     “Yep," Kruber answered. Although, neglecting to consider how having her arms wound around his neck would affect his composure was a bit of an oversight. He cleared his throat. "Now, if we run into any more nasties, you'll just hold that out in front of us, and I'll spin ‘round, like this.” He did a few turns in place, eliciting from her a rare bubble of unrestrained laughter that left him a little light-headed. </p><p>     “A fine strategy, if our assailant is a field of wheat.” </p><p>     “You can't be too sure, remember Morgensloft?” He shrugged his shoulders to situate her a bit higher. “S'pose I've been needing new boots anyway. Alright, watch your feet.” </p><p>     Kruber stepped down into muck so thick, the surface barely rippled at the disturbance. Immediately, he felt the gurgle of it seeping into the top of his boots, his steps laborious against the dense liquid. “Taal preserve me.”</p><p>     “That brute strength is good for something after all,” Kerillian teased.</p><p>     “Do you ever give compliments that aren’t also insults?” </p><p>     “Aye, when it’s warranted.”</p><p>     “And carrying you across a river of rotten meat so your pretty little shoes don’t get dirty doesn’t “warrant” it?” Kruber demanded indignantly. Each step drew a little more of the concerningly warm sludge up the legs of his trousers. </p><p>     She made a grand show of sighing in exasperation. “Alright, alright. Thank you, Markus. You’re always good to me. You don’t have to be, but you are.”</p><p>     It was maddening, he thought, how just hearing her call him by his given name made his face burn. The unexpected sincerity certainly didn’t help, either. It was all he could do to shape his discomfiture into what could plausibly be passed off as annoyance.</p><p>     “Wow, that was incredible. Do you need to have a lie down now?” Kruber asked.</p><p>     “You are such an <em> arsehole, </em>” Kerillian complained. “And no, I’m already being carried. Unless you intend to let me nap until we’re above ground.”</p><p>     “If you fall asleep back there, I’ll drop you.”</p><p>     “You won’t,” she said with certainty.</p><p>     “Argh, yeah, wrapped ‘round your little finger amn’t I.” Kruber glanced down at the muck, and immediately back up again after making eye contact with a stray skull, half-submerged like a hellish iceberg. “Don’t take it for granted. Next time, you’re carrying me.”</p><p>     Her low chuckle already did things to him in a normal context. But pressed close and inches away from his ear, it rippled through his body like the burn of a healing draught. And, as her arms pulled in just a little closer, and her cheek rested warmly against his neck, he felt the accompanying head-rush, too. As he began to step up and out of the water, the pang of regret Kruber felt at the thought of letting her go betrayed plainly a truth he’d been compartmentalizing for some time now. </p><p>     The truth of it was, over the last two years, he’d let Kerillian be knit deep into his heart, let her tie him into knots like the ends of her bowstrings-- and now, the thought of untangling her gave him the strangest feeling that the rest of him might come unraveled.  </p><p>     And so, it was selfish, but with both feet back on dry ground, Kruber made no move to put her down. He waited for her to move, or to protest, as he continued forward, but she didn’t. Even after they had left the room altogether, and began making their way down another long corridor, her cheek remained pressed against his neck in silence. </p><p>     He’d thought it selfish, but he remembered hearing the quiet sobs drifting down from the courtyard on nights when he, too, had lost sleep. He thought of the mornings she’d drift by them like a ghost, eyes swollen and mind elsewhere, and wondered if she needed this too. </p><p>     So, aware of her tendency toward skittishness when it came to any sort of display of vulnerability, Kruber let the minutes pass in silence, doing nothing to upset the tenuous calm that had settled over them. With the lives they led, there was little space for respite or gentleness. He could give her this, at least. They carried on like that, her arms wrapped around him and her breathing slow and even, until they reached the point where a ladder bid them continue their journey above ground. </p><p>     “We’ll need to climb out of here to meet Sienna and Bardin, you alright to press on?” He turned to pose the question softly against her temple. </p><p>     “Aye,” Kerillian nodded, “I am...now.” </p><p>     Kruber lowered her to the ground, and took back his halberd. </p><p>     She started forward but hesitated, one hand on the rungs of the ladder. “....Thank you, Kruber.” To his surprise, she reached out, and squeezed his hand. “Sorry about your boots,” she said, turning to climb in earnest. “Let us finish what we came here for, and go home.” </p><p>     That odd quiet still hung in the air between them. “Yeah, don’t need to tell me twice,” he replied, and followed her up the ladder and into the waiting night.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Dreams</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sick fic, of course (I'm a simple writer with simple needs, ok). From our elf's pov this time. This is just painfully corny and self-indulgent, I have no excuses. The premise was a friend's idea, so I can blame them for that much. The cheese is all me though, unfortunately, RIP.</p><p><a href="https://artemisiavulgaris1114.tumblr.com/post/643849608641085440/i-downloaded-a-new-procreate-brushset-by-stephanie">This chapter now has art</a> by the lovely <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemisia_vulgaris/pseuds/artemisia_vulgaris">artemesia_vulgaris </a>♡</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>     It was well into the night when Kerillian crept across the keep to look in on him. Just to check, she told herself, since sleep seemed determined to elude her. It most definitely was not because she had spent the day in a state of fretful, guilty worry. Absolutely not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Mayflies were usually so fragile, but Kruber was nothing if not sturdy. His stalwart physicality, inelegant as it was, had saved the lot of them on more occasions than she could count. It’s how he ended up like this-- suffering the effects of a poisoned blade intended for Kerillian’s ribs, looking entirely too feeble and small.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Lohner and Saltzpyre had seemed confident that the affliction would pass, provided they watched his fever while Olesya’s potions did their work. That didn’t make the picture he painted any less concerning. Even in his sleep, his expression was tight with pain, his breath rapid and shallow. She brushed the sweat-slicked hair off of his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “If you don’t get better soon, I’ll be terribly cross with you… You don’t want that,” she murmured. Kruber stirred as she wrung a soaked cloth out over the basin of water at his bedside. He opened his eyes, but they were distant, disoriented. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Kerillian?” he croaked. “Where are we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Your quarters. I’m um... sorry to wake you.” She hadn’t thought far enough ahead to prepare for a conversation. His eyes fluttered closed when she felt his forehead with the back of her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Hmm... Dreaming, then,” he sighed, as if in frustration. “Taal knows I’ve dreamt about you enough lately.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     That… was not what she’d expected to hear at </span>
  <em>
    <span>all. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And frankly, she’d no idea what to do with it now that she had. The surprise came muddled with yet more guilt-- this time over having heard something she clearly wasn’t meant to. She should go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I… nothing bad, I hope?” she chanced. Gods, what was wrong with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Nah,” Kruber blinked up at the ceiling, unseeing. “Only nice ones I’ve had in a long while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     This was rapidly becoming much more than Kerillian was prepared to handle. Instinct implored her to drop it and go back to bed. She wondered if he would forget everything by the time he was lucid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     She wondered if she wanted him to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “And… what is it you’ve been dreaming?” She cursed herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He chuckled weakly. “The real Kerillian would skin me alive, no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Isn’t that the image she’d been trying to maintain? And yet, here she was, ready to sabotage it with her inability to keep her traitorous mouth shut. “Well, the real Kerillian is telling you that it’s alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Kruber peered at her quizzically, seemingly unconvinced, but his eyes slid closed again when she pressed the cool cloth to his forehead. He exhaled wearily, steeling himself. “We were… at a festival in </span>
  <span>Bögenhafen. There were fireworks still, but no Rotbloods, no Rat-men.” He looked back at her then, hazy and unfocused. “We were eating fried dough. You let me hold your hand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Kerillian felt very suddenly like she’d swallowed hot ash from the hearth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Seems silly, I know,” he mumbled, “but with the way things have been… All death, all the time, it was nice to forget.” He looked away, bashful at his own admission. It was so painfully like him, she thought, to speak longingly about something so sweet, so gentle. She’d be loath to admit it aloud, but she wished she was brave enough, strong enough, to be half as earnest as Kruber so effortlessly was. Instead, whenever she searched her fear-poisoned heart for a sliver of sincerity to offer, all she found was bile. It was wretched, and she knew it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “It’s dreadfully silly,” she breathed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> managing to keep her voice from cracking. Before she could scare herself out of it, she reached out and cradled his hand between her own. “But it does sound nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Kruber blinked down at their joined hands. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>dreaming,” he huffed, but he ran a thumb gently over her knuckles, and made no move to let go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The tears spilled over Kerillian’s cheeks before she could stop them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “What? Hey,” he whispered. He reached up and cupped her face in his trembling hand. “Have I said something wrong? Hard to tell with you sometimes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     She covered his hand with her own, and pressed into it. “No, it’s…” she stuttered, “...you should go to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Don’t want to,” he shook his head, “gonna be so annoyed when I wake up from this. Always am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Will you--” she took a moment to search for the words. “Will you sleep if I promise to come back tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He gave her that skeptical look again, but let her go. “Alright, if you say so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The realization came crashing over her in the span of a moment-- she did not want him to forget.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Good. Um, here.” She withdrew the now soiled cloth from his forehead, and replaced it with the clean handkerchief from her pocket-- the one with tendrils of grape vines stitched delicately around the perimeter. “You can give that back later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     She knew the likelihood that her heart’s own cowardice would prevail, so if words failed her, he’d at least know this much had been real. Kerillian owed him that, at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     By the time she moved to leave, Kruber had fallen asleep once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Her lips moved against his forehead as she whispered around the ghost of a kiss. “Pleasant dreams, Markus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     She rose, closed the door gently behind her, and slipped away.</span>
</p>
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